


Tastes like Candy

by jmtorres



Category: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (2005)
Genre: Cross-Generation Relationship, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-21
Updated: 2005-07-21
Packaged: 2017-10-09 09:08:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/85527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmtorres/pseuds/jmtorres
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The maturity gap makes up for the age gap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tastes like Candy

Charlie and his father left Mr. Wonka's factory together every morning; his father to the toothpaste factory, Charlie to school. Charlie's father stayed out all day and had to be let back in after the sun went down, but Charlie came back in the afternoon to invent candies with Willy Wonka. Mr. Wonka would really have preferred that Charlie play with him all day, but Charlie's parents (a word Charlie still had to fill in for Mr. Wonka) thought Charlie should go to school, and Charlie was inclined to agree with them.

"But schooling just gets in the way," said Mr. Wonka. "Like that other boy--the mumbler--what was his name? The one that kept telling me my inventions were impossible."

"They _are_ impossible," Charlie said. "They're wonderful and beautiful and impossible. I don't think I'll be able to make them after you're gone--and that _is_ what having an heir is for," Charlie reminded Mr. Wonka when he opened his mouth to protest. Mr. Wonka shut his mouth, looking a bit startled. "So I think," Charlie went on, "that I had better know how to do things properly."

"If you think it's absolutely necessary," said Mr. Wonka, but did not leave Charlie much time for doing homework.

So Charlie's going to school was not a problem, for the most part. It was not a problem for three whole years.

Then, when Charlie was fourteen, he met a girl.

Charlie had met lots of girls before, because half the students in his school were girls, but he had never had such a reaction to a girl before. She had short, black hair and warm, brown skin, and he mooned over her constantly. He started working on Valentine's boxes in the middle of October, when Mr. Wonka wanted to come up with a few last-minute Halloween varieties and maybe start on some snowmen for Christmas. He stayed out until after sunset and had to be dragged back in by his father, and on the evenings when he did come in early, he brought _her_ and took her on boat rides on the chocolate river in the candy gondola.

At least, he did until the Oompa-loompas got ahold of her and strapped her into the apparatus in the whipped cream room with her breasts bared. They hadn't actually whipped her, but they'd been about to start when Charlie caught up with them, told them firmly that his girlfriend was _not_ a cow, got the poor girl down and escorted her out of the factory, where she ran off yelling that she wasn't that kind of girl and never wanted to see him again.

"She got off rather lightly," Mr. Wonka said.

"She didn't deserve that--she didn't _do_ anything," Charlie said angrily.

Charlie tried again with another girl, and this one fell prey to the blackberry brambles in the candy fields near the house. The last time Charlie had been in the berry thickets, they hadn't had any thorns on their branches, much less ones that grabbed girls by their long, blonde hair and swallowed them whole. Charlie rescued the girl, borrowed some clothes from his mother to replace the ones the brambles had torn to shreds, and waved good-bye as she fled.

Mr. Wonka said, "That's too bad. I suppose the blackberry brambles won't sell, then. I thought they seemed rather fun."

Charlie refused to speak to Mr. Wonka and asked out another girl.

Mr. Wonka threw a terrible sulk and invented grape sours, cherry sours, orange sours, melon sours, cranberry sours, and chocolate-flavored beer he called Sweet Bitter.

Charlie said, "The name is quite clever, but the concept is rubbish. If you're jealous, why don't you just kiss me already, or something?"

"Jealous?" said Mr. Wonka. "I don't know what you mean."

"You had an Oompa-loompa trip my girlfriend into a vat of caramel so that you could show me--" Charlie waved his hand at all the candies. "--just how sour you've been feeling." He was pretty sure that was it for this girlfriend. She'd been screaming obscenities as they rolled the vat away.

"I don't feel sour," Mr. Wonka said unconvincingly. Charlie noted that he did not deny giving the Ooompa-loompas instructions about the girlfriends.

Charlie said, "You know, the way normal people, people who don't live up in ivory towers making chocolate all day, the way those sorts of people go about having heirs is, they fall in love, and they get married, and they have babies together."

"The towers aren't ivory," said Mr. Wonka. "I'm not sure where you could find a beast with tusks big enough to make ivory towers out of. Maybe a febrifuge from the mountains of Norland. Or is it Neitherland?"

"Netherlands," said Charlie, forgetting for a moment that he was trying not to get sucked into this sort of conversation. "And they don't have any mountains. Most of the country is actually below sea level."

"Well, then, it's not them, is it?" Mr. Wonka asked. "I'll bet you anything it's Norland. Would you like to go there?"

"Sure," said Charlie, who was by now quite used to Mr. Wonka's expeditions. "At Christmas." He was also quite used to forcing Mr. Wonka to plan the expeditions to coincide with his school holidays. "Do you have some kind of hang-up about sex?" he asked. "We're reading _Oedipus Rex_ in my English class, so I know about oedipal complexes. Is that why I still haven't met your mum?" Charlie watched Mr. Wonka very closely for any signs of flashbacks.

Mr. Wonka surprised him by saying flatly, "My mother died when I was born."

"I'm very sorry," Charlie said gravely. "Would sex make you feel better?"

Mr. Wonka stared at him with wide, round eyes. "I beg your pardon?" he said finally.

"What's your shirt made of?" said Charlie.

"C--c--cotton," said Mr. Wonka, backing up as Charlie advanced on him.

"Cotton candy," said Charlie.

"Yes, that," said Mr. Wonka, as Charlie backed him into a ten-foot peppermint stick.

It was quite ingenious, really. There was a room where Oompa-loompas spun cotton candy into cotton candy thread, and then wove it into cotton candy cloth, and then cut it up and made clothes out of it. The stuff was tough when it was woven, nearly untearable, but it dissolved nicely under a proper application of saliva.

The left side of Mr. Wonka's collar melted in Charlie's mouth.

"What are you--what are you doing?" Mr. Wonka asked.

Charlie licked around the edges. If he happened to lick Mr. Wonka's collarbone as well, no matter, he thought.

"I think you might had better stop," said Mr. Wonka, "before I have to find a new shirt for dinner."

Charlie reached the first button and started sucking on it. It was strawberry-flavored. He knew it wasn't an everlasting gobstopper, because the thread holes had been punched through it after it was cast. So Charlie sucked the button deep into his mouth, between his molars, and bit down.

The button cracked, and a large portion of the cotton candy shirt dissolved in Charlie's mouth as well. The shirt fell open over Mr. Wonka's chest. Charlie pulled Mr. Wonka's shirt open and gave his chest a sugary lick for good measure.

Mr. Wonka said, rather faintly, "Oh, dear."

Charlie worked his way down the rest of Mr. Wonka's shirt. His buttons were all red, so it became a guessing game which flavor of red they were. Raspberry, Charlie guessed; apple surprised him, since Mr. Wonka liked to make apples green; cinnamon, he got because he could see the flecks of it in the button, just before he closed his mouth over it. The last was cherry, which Charlie figured out purely by process of elimination.

Then he started on Mr. Wonka's marzipan belt buckle. He was all the way to the licorice strands of the belt before Mr. Wonka's trembling hand touched his hair. Charlie turned his head to suck on Mr. Wonka's fingers. His gloves were made of the special unpoppable bubblegum, so there was no getting through them, and they tasted like grape. After a moment, Charlie looked up at Mr. Wonka and said, "Just try to stand still, all right?"

Mr. Wonka nodded nervously.

Charlie mouthed the crotch of Mr. Wonka's trousers, and they dissolved. Boxers, too, gone in a few licks. Then all that was left was Mr. Wonka's cock, and Charlie wrapped his fingers around his shaft and put his mouth on its head, and sucked.

Mr. Wonka let out a breathy little moan, a surprised, "Oh..."

Charlie slid his hand down and sucked in more of Mr. Wonka's cock. By now, the taste of all the candy clothes was starting to clear out of Charlie's mouth, and he could taste the actual flavor of Mr. Wonka's cock. It was not sweet, which was something of a surprise. Charlie had half-expected Mr. Wonka himself to be made out of candy, something milky like a coconut truffle or a marshmallow cream puff. But Mr. Wonka was made out of ordinary flesh, and his skin tasted like ordinary skin, which is to say, a little salty with sweat, but otherwise not like much at all.

And if Charlie had expected Mr. Wonka to be as hard as a peppermint stick or a lollipop, he was disappointed again. Mr. Wonka's cock was firm, yes, but as flesh is firm. Charlie had developed a bad habit of biting peppermint sticks, but he knew he mustn't bite Mr. Wonka's cock, because it would bruise, and it would hurt Mr. Wonka.

When Mr. Wonka came, it was a little sweet, because you are what you eat, and Mr. Wonka ate an awful lot of sweets, but mostly it was just sticky and thick and human. Charlie sat back on his haunches and looked up at Mr. Wonka. His eyes were closed and his mouth was open, panting.

"Charlie--" Mr. Wonka began.

"If you give me this," Charlie said, "I'll give up girls."

"Oh," said Mr. Wonka, with a slightly crazed smile. "Well, if you must, I suppose you must."

When Charlie announced to his family that he was now going out with Mr. Wonka, Grandma Georgina said, "Oh, good catch. Very pretty. You mustn't let this one get away!"

The rest of Charlie's family was as disapproving as he had asked them to be, and when Charlie declared that he wasn't going to stop seeing Mr. Wonka just because his parents didn't like it, Mr. Wonka became much more gleeful about the whole thing, which was the reaction Charlie had been looking for all along.

**Author's Note:**

> Also archived on dreamwidth: <http://jmtorres.dreamwidth.org/1051486.html>.


End file.
